When I think about how I spent my time this weekend  eating and drinking with friends, listening to music, watching the Giants beat the Cowboys to gain sole possession of first place in the NFC East  I really have no complaints. These are all great things. Why then, when you ask me how my weekend was, do I sigh and say: "It was okay, I guess"?

It's funny because:
Just as Wes suggested  though I so earnestly try to never hold expectations of any sort, and I talk a lot of smack about never expecting anything from this life, I'm really full of it: I have great expectations, and often scold myself for expecting too much  I figured I must have simply been expecting the magic to come. Or "looking for it," as my mom might say. And you can't go looking for it, she tells me. Because, if you do, you'll never find it. Whatever, ma.

I've been listening for fun. With fun in mind, I mean. And it has been fun. I find myself, sitting there, chasing the sounds across the space in between the speakers. My eyes racing, images forming left and right, too much for me to keep up with.